Belongs to the Ages
by Sunshine Daisies Buttermellow
Summary: A Hermione/Draco/Ron love story. Beginning in their fourth year at Hogwarts, just when the class starts to discover the opposite sex, all the way to their seventh year.
1. Chapter 1

The roar of the crowd came as a relief for her. She was not a huge fan of Quidditch, even though the match had been incredibly exciting. After watching the ceremonial events that concluded the match, the party slowly made their way back to their tent, chatting animatedly about everything they had seen: from Krum's daring capture of the Snitch to the brilliance of the Irish seekers, the party could not have given more admirable praise to both sides.

After a half an hour of fighting their way to the tent, they flung themselves into some of Perkin's old arm chairs. Mr. Weasley, though he looked emotionally drained from the match and physically exhausted from their early morning, went into the kitchen to make some cocoa. Harry, Ron and Charlie sat themselves on a worn velvet couch while Ginny slumped against Hermione's legs, who sat in a dark green armchair. Fred and George, still so excited about the match, both remained standing, demonstrating their favorite plays. Mr. Weasley came back into the sitting room while holding a tray, which he had precariously placed nine cups of cocoa on.

For two hours, Hermione sat through these intense discussions about the match. Not knowing very much about Quidditch (except for what she had learned in books), she simply smiled and laughed when the boys displayed plays.

Hermione felt a tap on her leg, and looked down to see what caused it; Ginny looked up at Hermione, and Hermione smiled back to her.

Ginny winked.

Hermione, confused by Ginny's behavior, watched her carefully. Ginny, feigning exhaustion, slumped down against Hermione's leg, apparently sleeping.

"Oh dear, boys, let's get to bed, Ginny's fallen asleep, it is nearly ten, and we got up at five today" Mr. Weasley exclaimed, jumping out of the chair he was sitting in.

Groaning, the boys headed off to bed.

"Hermione, you'll see that Ginny gets to bed safely?" Mr. Weasley said while looking down at Hermione.

"Yes, of course, Mr. Weasley, I'll just wake her up now and lead her to bed," Hermione said, feigning exhaustion herself.

Mr. Weasley nodded his approval and bade them goodnight. As soon as he had gone into his room, Hermione gently shoved Ginny off her legs.

"Alright, Ginny, what's up?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

A smile spread slowly across Ginny's face, "I agreed to meet Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan earlier today," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Want to come with me?"

Hermione could hardly believe how bold Ginny had become over this past summer. For some time now, she had been encouraging Ginny to move on from her feelings for Harry, but she worried that Ginny had taken this in the wrong way.

"They'll never find out," Ginny persuaded Hermione.

Hermione sighed, "Well go for fifteen minutes, no longer."

Ginny leapt up excitedly, "Then let's go!"

Hermione, sighing in exasperation at her best girlfriend's promiscuity, stood up to follow her.

Ginny led Hermione through a maze of tents, as though she knew her path (which she probably did, Hermione reminded herself. She had just acknowledged that Ginny had become increasingly skilled at wooing boys this summer, and directions to a boy's house were the easiest thing Ginny knew how to do with boys, at this point). Hermione observed the revelers, who had become increasingly more demonstrative since Hermione had last seen them. Fairies and bewitched firecrackers zoomed overhead, some emitting high pitched noises, others squealing "TROY! MULLET! MORAN!"

"Ginny!" It was Seamus, waving for her to join them.

Hermione saw Ginny's face; a devilish smile spread across her face and she sauntered forward, moving her hips in an unnecessary swinging movement (Hermione fought back a laugh; she would learn in good time how to do this, for right now she looked like she had a bad twitch).

"Oh, hi Hermione!" Said Seamus when he saw her.

"Hi Seamus, we can only stay for a bit," Hermione said in a less-than-inviting tone.

"Fine, however long is fine," he said distractedly, eyeing Ginny as she greeted Dean while reaching for a firewhisky.

"Ginny! You are _way_ too young to drink that!" Hermione scolded.

"Oh, lighten up, Hermione, there's hardly ANY liquor in this," Ginny laughed while tipping the liquid into her mouth.

Hermione sighed and sat on a wood log, tapping her foot impatiently. Dean and Seamus paid her no mind, laughing at Ginny's jokes, eyeing her long red hair in a sort of trance. Secretly, Hermione was pleased that Ginny was trying to move on, yet she felt rather upset, too, that the boys paid her no mind.

"Seamus!" The group turned around; another freckly boy walked toward them.

"Oh hey, mate!" Seamus turned to look at the group, "This is me cousin, Fergus."

Fergus looked a good deal older than all of them, probably 16, and had more mature features than his cousin. Hermione looked at Ginny, and what she saw did not surprise her: Ginny's eyes roved up and down Fergus's broad shoulders, eyes sparkling. Hermione sighed, resigned to the fact that she _might_ be the only person in control of her hormones in a mile wide radius.

Hermione stood up; she was _not_ going to allow Ginny to lose control over herself, "Well, Ginny, I really think we ought to be getting back. Your dad will be furious."

Ginny pouted, "Oh _please, _Hermione. If you're tired, you go back. I'll stay here."

"Fine, Ginny, but I'll be waiting for you to come back in thirty minutes," she glared at Seamus and Dean, "You _will_ have her back?"

"Yes, Hermione, we will," Dean said calmly. She was glad to have heard this from Dean, who she trusted the most.

With a terse nod, she started to walk back to her tent, fuming at Ginny's lack of control, even though she knew it was perfectly understandable. She took random turns, muttering to herself about Ginny's foolhardiness.

Hermione froze, looking around her. She did not recognize _any_ tents around her. She knew she was toward the edge of the campground, because she saw the trees. Hermione bit her lip, trying to calm herself down. She didn't have a clue where she was. Cursing Ginny for luring her into this pointless late-night foray, she took more blind turns, not getting any closer to any site she recognized.

Hermione sighed, now frustrated to the point of tears. She sat herself down on a tree stump, placing her hands on her knees. She thought of her options as to what she could do: walk all the way back to the front of the campground (though admittedly she had no idea where that was) or use magic to find her way back. The latter was not exactly an appealing or legal option, though she could not just sit here all night.

She stood up, bracing herself to break the law, expecting Ministry officials to swoop down upon her. She took a deep breath and felt the spell on the tip of her tongue, lifting her wand skyward---

Hermione stopped suddenly; she heard quick footsteps, and she hurriedly stuffed her wand away, squinting to see who was there.

Something shone brightly, even in the limited moonlight. She thought of a Veela, wandering throughout the campground, or someone with a white beard, but it wasn't either of those suspects.

The figure stopped, feet away from her, pointing his wand at her.

"Don't! I won't hurt you!" Hermione said in a frightened voice.

Hermione couldn't see his face, but she could see the moonlight glistening on the extended wand.

She saw the wand swipe the air, and Hermione braced herself to be cursed, flinching slightly.

"_Lumos,_" said the voice quietly.

Hermione slowly looked up, and the face she saw made her want to run in the opposite direction, as fast as she could.

The face was pale, and slightly pointed, with piercing blue eyes, surveying her face, his eyebrows raised.

"Granger," he said in a low voice, smiling waywardly.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "What?"

Malfoy leaned against a tent pole, striking an impressive, careless pose, "Wandering about in the middle of the night? That sends an interesting message."

Hermione flushed slightly, "I don't mean _anything_ by it. What are you doing?"

"Going back to my tent," he said, waving this aside.

Hermione surveyed him carefully. He looked disheveled: his shirt was wrinkled, and un-tucked, his hair messy.

"Should I even ask _why_ you're in such a state?" She asked coldly.

A wicked smile spread across his face, "You wouldn't understand. Too innocent."

"Ah, I see. Well, I'm going to be going," Hermione turned away from him, but stopped. She had no idea which way to take. She deliberated for a few moments.

She did not here him approach her, yet slowly, he walked up, his footsteps muffled by the long grass, to be right behind her.

"I don't think you know where you are," he whispered into her ear.

Hermione shrieked and jumped slightly. Malfoy laughed softly, studying her state of shock.

Something happened in that moment, that moment when he saw her so petrified with fear. Perhaps he didn't realize what he was doing, but suddenly, he let his eyes rove over her figure, over her heaving chest. He saw her hair, a lot less frizzy than it had been when he first met her. He observed her small waist, covered by the thin sweater she wore that hung cozily on her figure.

Malfoy coughed, and stopped laughing. Hermione had since calmed herself down and continued to glare at Malfoy.

"Granger's lost her way…" he taunted in a low voice.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but then her shoulders fell, "I don't know where I'm supposed to go."

"Really, Granger? You, of all people, wouldn't realize that you could just magic yourself back to your tent?"

"_That_ would be illegal," she hissed at him.

"Fine. Sit here all night, what do I care?" Malfoy turned around and walked away.

"WAIT!" Hermione shouted after him, "Please, I don't know where I am."

Malfoy looked at her, smiling wickedly, "Are you asking me for help?"

Hermione sighed, "As much as I don't want to… I am."

"I thought so… well then, follow me," Hermione did not like how he leered at her. She knew that following him was like following someone off a cliff just because they said it was a good idea, but she had no other option.

Hermione refused to walk in step with him, deciding to follow behind him for a bit. Malfoy glanced back at her when she first started to do this, "What the _hell_ are you doing?" Hermione glared at him and said nothing, "Are you following my steps?"

"No!" Hermione shouted, and she walked to stand right beside him. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, still smiling while shaking his head.

They walked for another minute, and Hermione realized that he was not leading her to her tent, "Where are we going? This is nowhere _near_ the front of the campgrounds," she looked suspiciously at him. She saw he was smiling impishly, "I don't believe you! This isn't near the front! Then where…" Hermione's eyes fell upon a lone, solitary dark tent at the end of the campgrounds, "This is _your_ tent?" Malfoy laughed at her averse tone, "And, I suppose, your parents are in there?" She said in a worried voice.

"No, they're not. They gave me my own tent. I suppose you have to share with the Weasleys, in a small tent, 3 meters by 3 meters?"

Hermione glared at him, ignoring the slight on the Weasleys, he was helping her, and after all, "So why are we here?"

"I need to pick something up," he said, observing her carefully.

"Fine! I'll just wait out here," Hermione fumed. Malfoy watched her. Hermione looked around at the dark surroundings, only now did she realize that this tent was very isolated from the others.

"You _really_ want to stay out here, alone?" He said in a low voice. He might have read her mind.

"I… well; I guess I'll come in. But I'm standing in the doorway!" She shouted after him as he walked into his tent, shaking his head in laughter.

Hermione walked into the tent and gasped. This tent was very grand, despite its much smaller size. The walls were a deep green fabric, draped neatly over where each pole stood to support it. Black cloths draped over several plain black chairs. Hermione observed a small nook with a tiny stove, and saw a part in the fabric, which led undoubtedly to where Malfoy slept.

Malfoy was taking his time, and she knew he was doing this on purpose. Hermione's legs were tired, so she sat herself on the edge of a chair. She observed the sitting room and saw that a few robes were strewn across the chairs and floor.

Hermione was drained, and her impatience slowly slipped away from her as did her consciousness, she felt herself sliding into the chair and shutting her eyes.

She jerked her head up suddenly: she heard footsteps. She opened her eyes and saw a figure walking around the sitting room.

Hermione let out a little sigh of shock: Malfoy had removed his shirt and was debating which robe he would wear. She shut her mouth immediately, but Malfoy had already realized she had woken.

"Enjoy your minute-long slumber? That position didn't exactly look comfortable."

He walked toward her, still shirtless, and stood in front of her chair. Hermione looked up at his face, with as much loathing as she could muster, forcing herself not to look at his perfect chest.

"Can we _go_ now?" She said impatiently.

Malfoy laughed and turned away. He grabbed the robe on the couch and slipped it over his shoulders, "Just a minute, I left my wand in my room."

Hermione felt her eyelids drooping again, and she drifted asleep once more.

Malfoy walked back into the room and saw her, fast asleep in the chair. He observed her crouched figure and calm face. He saw her hair cascading down her shoulders; it was a lot longer than he remembered. Absentmindedly, he reached out a hand to touch it.

"Whoa," said Malfoy quietly. He cleared his throat, "Granger! Up! I'm taking you home."

Hermione stirred softly and opened her eyes, sitting up. She rubbed her eyes slowly; Malfoy thought this was endearing, and smiled at this movement.

Hermione stood up swaying.

"Let's go," Malfoy said in a voice filled with faked coldness.

Hermione stumbled forward; she tripped on a shoe that lay on the ground.

He caught her by the shoulder, forcing back a chuckle, "Granger," said Malfoy in an impatient voice, "Come on, let's go."

Hermione stumbled alongside him, tripping often, but slowly coming to her senses. The evening had become cooler, and the breezy air seemed to have woken her up.

"Where is your tent Granger?" Malfoy asked, turning to her.

"Emm… I don't remember," she said while yawning.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Well then what the _hell_ I am supposed to DO then?" Malfoy thought to himself.

Hermione was running a hand through her hair: she was still in a dreamlike state. She looked dreamily around at her surroundings, and her eyes fell on Malfoy. She stared at him with wide eyes.

Malfoy blinked, unable to understand her actions.

An absolutely mischievous thought flicked through Malfoy's mind. He was, after all, the most impulsive person who attended Hogwarts, so he decided to act on it.

He walked toward her, studying her trancelike face. She looked at him distantly, an expression that he had never seen on her face. He moved his hand toward her face, brushing her hair aside, to better see her eyes.

That was where she appeared to become aware of what she was doing. Something flicked beneath inside her eyes, "Jesus, Malfoy. What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy simply looked at her, "Take me to the front of the campground."

"You'll never make it, you're half asleep."

"Why do you care?" Hermione said acidly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and marched toward the front, fuming.

He had never been rejected before; girls had always taken his kisses willingly, and given him anything he wanted. Thoughts like these followed him all the way to the front of the campground.

They emerged from the row of tents they had walked down and saw the campground owner's home. The revelers who still remained were now completely drunk, to the point where they stumbled around, singing song lyrics incorrectly.

Malfoy turned to look at her. She still looked tired, but he knew she was awake, for she glared at him in distaste.

"Well, thank you very much, Malfoy" Hermione said quietly, "Despite the diversions, I'm glad I've found my way."

Malfoy shrugged, "It's not like I saved you from a burning building."

Hermione nodded and turned back down another row of tents. Malfoy watched her retreating back, sighing to himself. He turned to walk slowly back to his tent, feeling a bizarre sinking feeling pressing down upon him.

Hermione arrived at her tent and flung herself into her bed, not even caring to undress. She could hardly remember the past hour, but she had a vague idea of what happened: it seemed surreal.

Ginny came stumbling in, exhilarated from her partying.

"Hermione!" Ginny trilled.

Hermione shushed her and raised her eyebrows, "What?"

"Guess who I just got my first kiss from?" She giggled.

"I don't know. You were with three boys," Hermione said in an exasperated tone.

"I got it from Seamus' cousin, Fergus," (Hermione sighed. Of course she had gotten it from someone who was _way_ too old for her), "He's AMAZING, Hermione! I _need_ to date an older boy! Wow!" Ginny flung herself into a chair, placing a hand on her forehead, "I feel lightheaded. Is that natural?"

"I suppose," said Hermione irritably.

Ginny turned to look at her, "Have you ever been kissed?"

Hermione looked at Ginny and said, "No."

"Oh. Well, you'll get yours soon enough," Ginny said happily, "And make sure you get it from an older boy, they're WAY better."

"Okay, Ginny…" Hermione yawned.

Ginny giggled and bounced off to her bed.

"Do you plan on dating him?" Hermione asked, feigning interest.

"Oh, well, no," Ginny said, smile faltering, "I asked him where we were going to go with this. He said he has a girlfriend," Hermione scoffed audibly, "So, whatever. I'm free for the school year!"

Hermione sighed, "Only you would bounce back that quickly from a romantic letdown."

Ginny laughed and threw the covers over herself, shifting around to make herself more comfortable.

Hermione turned to look up at the ceiling, seeing the golden trails of leprechauns flying above the tent. She thought of Malfoy advancing toward her. She remembered his thin lips, how they parted slightly as he moved toward her. She liked seeing his mouth in this appealing position, not when it was shaped in a sneer.

Then her mind raced toward her conversation with Ginny: it was true, she had never been kissed. Never even close.

Then realization swooped down on her, like the breezy winds that had almost awoken her just a half an hour ago. Draco Malfoy had almost been her first kiss. She sighed in appreciation of this narrow dodge. She could not allow something like that to ever happen.

Even if she did want to kiss him.


	2. Chapter 2

Those next few hours were a blur to Hermione. Little over an hour after falling asleep, she was awoken by Mr. Weasley's frantic voice, telling them they had to flee. She remembered seeing the Muggles up in the air, hearing the voices of terrified children, the Dark Mark illuminated in the sky… and the encounter with Malfoy in the woods. This encounter further confused Hermione, and things that confused Hermione needed to be fixed, so she could interpret everything. She remembered his behavior earlier that night, his face approaching hers, alight with desire. Then the ugly memory of him taunting Harry, Ron and herself swam up to her conscience seconds later.

The party went back to The Burrow, still exhausted from their inadequate amount of sleep. Mrs. Weasley made a scene in the Burrow's front lawn, and after this event subsided, Harry, Ron and Hermione dropped their things off in their respective rooms (Harry was staying with Ron and Hermione was staying with Ginny). While Harry and Ron went outdoors to play Quidditch with the twins, Hermione resorted to reading her new school books that Mrs. Weasley had bought for her.

Ginny was changing into a pair of shorts and a brown long-sleeve t-shirt while Hermione was leaning against the wall, reading against the headboard. Once she had finished dressing, she sat on the edge of Hermione's bed, watching her carefully.

Hermione looked at Ginny over the edge of her book, "What's up, Ginny?"

"You were muttering in your sleep last night," Ginny said quietly, smiling slightly.

Hermione flushed a little pink, "I normally never do that. What did I say?"

Ginny watched her closely, a bit of a laugh in her voice, "You said Malfoy's name a few times."

Hermione's jaw dropped, "I did?"

"Yes… do you… know what else you said?" Ginny asked, the smile on her face becoming wider.

"Well, no, I was asleep," Hermione said tentatively, anxious to hear what Ginny said.

"You asked him… to kiss you," Ginny started to giggle.

Hermione forced her face to look stunned. Then she rearranged her face to look impassive, "Well, obviously my dream-self isn't aware that the awake Hermione hates Malfoy."

"Perhaps…" Ginny said tauntingly. She looked away for a moment, toward her window, and then looked back at Hermione, "You _have_ noticed that Malfoy's gotten a lot more, well…"

Hermione's eyes narrowed, "You're not going to be attracted Malfoy this year, are you? You don't have a bad boy thing now?"

Ginny shock her head, "No, I just observed he's really attractive now."

Hermione clucked impatiently, "Well, he does hate your family and all Muggle-borns, so in no way do I find him attractive, even if-"

"Even if what?" Ginny said eagerly.

"Nothing," Hermione sighed, "Now, why don't you go play Quidditch?"

Ginny stood up, giving Hermione a knowing look, "Alright… if you need to talk, let me know…" Hermione smiled at Ginny and rolled her eyes. Ginny bounced out of the room, giggling along the way.

Hermione turned back to her book and tried to focus on the text:

"_The incantation '_Orchideous'_ is used when one wants a bouquet of flowers to spring out of the end of one's wand. Generally, one's wand is held at a perfectly horizontal slant while saying the incantation. It is advisable that one flicks the tip of one's wand slightly in order to add a flair to the petals of each flower. If one desires to change the colors of the flowers (typically they are white orchids) one should flick the end of a wand in a upward and then downward motion. To add an aphrodisiac scent-"_

That was where Hermione's mind started to wander. The memories of the events that occurred before the scenes of terror were slowly flooding back to her. She thought of Malfoy's tent: there was a faintly musky scent about the room, something that made her insides grow warm, her toes practically curl. There was something distinctly boyish about the scent, and Hermione was not sure what it was. The lighting was dim, a sole lantern hung from the roof of the tent. She thought of how this light played across Malfoy's bare chest… she could practically see his perfectly sculpted abdomen in front of her…

Hermione snapped out of her trance. Tapping her knees lightly with her book, as though to steal herself back to focusing, she read on:

_"To add an aphrodisiac scent, it is recommended that the caster thinks of the person they are most attracted to, or most in love with. However, if this spell is casted while one is thinking about someone the caster loathes, the caster must be aware that this action has been known to produce Venus Fly Traps that attack anyone within five feet of the plant."_

The passage on the spell ended there, and Hermione snapped the book shut. She lay it on the bedside table (which was currently consumed by Ginny's wand, hairbrush, and letters from her friends), and ran a hand through her hair. The series of events that had followed the meeting Hermione had with Malfoy could only be described by one word: chaos. This word also served the purpose of how Hermione's brain felt.

She stood up, looking around for something to do, something to read. Her search was in vain, and she resorted to starring out the window at the boys and Ginny playing Quidditch. She sighed and slipped down to lean against the wall.

Crookshanks slid through the half shut door and curled himself onto Hermione's lap. Absently, she stroked him while thinking about what she should do.

She knew what these tell-tale signs meant; she was a smart girl… just not an entirely mature one.

The door to her room flung open: Ron looked into Ginny's room, evidently looking for something. Crookshanks leapt off her lap, hissing angrily.

Hermione stood up, "Ron, what do you need?"

"Oh, Ginny asked me to get her something," he said, not entirely focusing on Hermione. He glanced at her and saw her eyebrows raised, "Fine. We made a little bet about something, I lost, and she made me go in to get her some better shoes to play in… she's wearing sandals right now."

"Oh, well, I'll help you look. Her room is _such_ a mess," Hermione sighed.

The two of them poked around Ginny's small room for a few minutes. Ginny did not have a closet, so it was a mystery to Hermione as to where she kept her shoes.

Ron bent down to look under her bed, "Do you think," Ron said in a muffled voice, "That she sent me to look in her room because she knew her shoes weren't in here?"

Hermione laughed, "Probably. She's become quite feisty," Hermione got down on her knees to look underneath the bed to.

Ron turned to look at her as she did this. Hermione looked at him too. She raised her eyebrows a bit. Ron cleared his throat and stretched his arm out to feel underneath the bed.

"Well… I've found something," he said slowly.

To Hermione's horror, Ron took something cloth out from underneath the bed. But it wasn't a shoe…

"Oh no," said Ron in an embarrassed tone. He dropped the thing at once.

One of Hermione's bras lay in between them. Ron looked nervously around the room, refusing to meet Hermione's eyes, or look at the white bra with lace straps.

"Oh, umm," Hermione said, fighting back a nervous giggle, "That must have gotten swept underneath the bed, when I unpacked."

Ron refused to look at her; he had actually shut his eyes. He stood up.

Hermione tucked the bra underneath the sheets of her bed, "I don't think Ginny's shoes are here," she said quietly.

Ron opened his eyes, "No, I'd say not," he looked at Hermione, and she looked at him. They seemed frozen for a moment, unsure what to do. Then they burst out laughing, awkwardly, but at least they didn't have to talk.

"You know," said Hermione thoughtfully, "Ginny _might_ have put that under there on purpose."

Ron looked at Hermione, "You really think so?"

"Well, yes, because it seems strange to me that she would want to change her shoes. I remember her specifically putting those on… I don't know why she would bother in the first place."

"Probably to embarrass me, like you said," Ron said while scratching the back of his head. Hermione thought this was an charming motion Ron had just made. In contrast with the confident sexual aura that Draco admitted, Ron was less sure of himself, and a lot more blunt. No games were played with Ron… he had less experience than Malfoy, presumably.

"Let's get to dinner," Ron said after a few moments, "See you in a minute."

Hermione nodded and turned away. She removed the bra from underneath her sheets and went over to her suitcase to put it back.

The door was flung open again. Hermione sighed; privacy was nonexistent at the Burrow.

"Did he find it?" It was Ginny, and she looked eagerly at Hermione.

Hermione sighed and held up the bra for her to see.

Ginny clapped her hands together, "Oh yes! I really got him!"

"Just promise me you won't tell Harry. He's nice… but I don't think even Harry would resist teasing us for this," Hermione sighed, laughing slightly.

"Oh I won't… but Fred and George would love to know," Ginny teased Hermione.

"NO!" Hermione shouted.

"I'm joking!" Ginny laughed. She ran back out of the room.

Somehow, Hermione wasn't exactly sure that Ginny wouldn't blab.

September 1st came quicker than Hermione had expected. That morning consisted of a flurry of activity at the Burrow, and this day marked the first time in a while that Hermione did not think about Malfoy for more than 3 hours.

That is until she got onto the Hogwarts express. While chatting with the others, Malfoy opened their compartment door while flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. Hermione watched him insult Ron's family, belittle Harry and Neville, and compliment himself on his good fortune of being a Malfoy. Her eyes were narrowed in disgust, and Malfoy paid her little mind, not even making eye contact with her. Perhaps it was because she was so desperate for making eye contact with him, but it was only Hermione who noticed that when Malfoy snatched Ron's robes, he slipped something into its pocket.

Now Hermione was truly furious with him, for she knew that whatever was in there was either meant to harm Ron or something meant for her. She felt increasingly annoyed that he expected for her to figure this out without even making the slightest notion of her.

Ron exited the train, fuming about Malfoy's verbal abuse of his family. While he rummaged around in his pocket for his Gryffindor badge to wear on his robe, Hermione discreetly slipped a hand into Ron's dress robe's pocket. She felt around for a moment in their capacious depths, and then felt her hands close on a small piece of paper. She slipped it into her pockets, not even caring to look at what the note said, for the others would notice her reading this strange piece of paper.

After the feast (during which Hermione ate very little), she dashed up to her room and changed into her pajamas. The other girls in her dormitory hadn't arrived yet: they were still catching up with the others in the common room. Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out the paper Malfoy had placed in Ron's robe:

Library, second half of lunch. By the books on History.

D. M.

Hermione thought this rather obnoxious. Malfoy had not given any pretenses to her as to why he needed to meet her, and he seemed to expect she would go no matter what. Nonetheless, Hermione decided to go anyway. She did, after all, want to research House Elves.

She did not have to wait till lunch to see Malfoy, however. As Harry, Ron and Hermione marched down to Care of Magical Creatures, Hermione saw Malfoy walking to Hagrid's hut too, along with Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. She did not expect for him to acknowledge her, for that would seem suspicious, and after his earlier behavior, it would also seem overtly hopeful.

Though admittedly she did watch him.

This became increasingly difficult, however. Both Ron and Draco were making a scene about the Blast Ended Skrewts. Between watching the two boys make increasingly scathing remarks and being preoccupied by a potential attack from the Blast End Skrewts, she didn't even realize that she agreed with Malfoy aloud. When she voiced this sentiment with Harry and Ron, they looked slightly shocked. Hermione smoothed this over, however, by changing the topic.

After wolfing down a hasty lunch, Hermione ran up to the library. She fed Harry and Ron the excuse a lame excuse as to why she was doing this, and she knew that while she walked hurriedly out of the hall, Harry and Ron had their eyes on her back.

Hermione took her familiar and favorite path to the library. She adored the way the sweeping views covered literally every picturesque part of Hogwarts: from the Black Lake to the Forbidden Forest, each part of the scenery was peppered with happy (and sad) memories she would never forget.

She arrived at the library and tiptoed in quietly. Madam Pince was sitting behind her desk, reading, as usual. She looked up casually over her book, saw that it was Hermione, and kept reading. Hermione could always be trusted to respect the library, at least, in Madam Pince's view.

Hermione wove deep through the shelves; she knew every turn, and had no difficulty finding the spot. She knew why Malfoy had picked this spot too: it was very secluded and had a bit of a cave like feeling to it. The nearest window was more than a body length away.

She turned the last corner, bracing herself before what she knew would be an awkward conversation. Exhaling slowly, she walked around a shelf and looked at the row where the history books were stored.

He was there, alright. He was sitting on a chair that had been shoved carelessly between two shelves. She had expected him to be late, and was surprised that he even made a point to be on time.

His face looked the same as ever: pale, pointed and decorated by arctic blue eyes, which lit up at seeing her.

Hermione cleared her throat, "What did you want?"

Malfoy stood up and walked toward her. Intent on not displaying her fear at his forwardness, Hermione stood her ground and looked up into his face.

She didn't realize how much taller he had gotten over the past few years. He must've grown 3 inches over the summer.

Malfoy continued to stare at her, a smile spreading slowly across his face.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

"You came," Malfoy said finally.

"Yes," Hermione said defensively, "I didn't know why you wanted me here, but if it's because you want to leer at me then I'd better be going…" Hermione trailed off.

Malfoy threw back his head, laughing slowly, "I came because I needed to have a word with you," he said in a voice Hermione did not like: there was something dangerously bold about it.

"Spit it out, then," Hermione said in a cold, uninviting tone.

He took a step toward her, "What do you remember about that evening I saw you after the World Cup?"

Hermione sighed; she felt uneasy about where Malfoy could go with this. She decided to play demurely, "Not much. You led me back to the front; we stopped at your tent for a pointless excursion, what else was there to remember?" Her eyes narrowed, "the events that followed eclipsed anything that happened earlier."

Malfoy knew why she said this, he knew her suspicions about his family (however true or untrue they were), "Do you remember the conversation we had before I went to my tent? Do you remember why we went?"

"You said you needed to get something, didn't you?" Said Hermione in a bored voice.

"No," said Malfoy crossly, "I said I needed to _pick up_ something, didn't I?"

Hermione's brain clicked just after he said this. She knew his intentions now.

"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but that _never_ would have happened. Ever. Sorry, you've found the wrong girl to coerce into… pleasing you," Hermione said cuttingly; Malfoy laughed.

"That's not exactly what your facial expression was like later that evening, when I tried to-"

"Yes, well, I wasn't exactly wide awake when you tried to…" Hermione trailed off, looking away from him, "Anyway, the point is, I'm not about to… well, be seen with someone who all of my best friends loathe."

"That is your pretense for denying a relationship?" Malfoy said incredulously. Hermione was furious that he had misinterpreted her words, but was secretly glad that it was he who first mentioned his romantic, well, _physical,_ intentions.

"I don't want to kiss you, Malfoy," said Hermione bluntly.

Malfoy walked toward her, forcing Hermione to lean up against the shelves. His face was just a hand's length away, "Want or can't? Those are very different things."

He was too close now, too close for the benign conversation Hermione had wanted this meeting to be. She could see each eyelash around his eyes. When she was this close to him, she saw that he had the faintest of light freckles on his nose.

Hermione looked down at the ground for a moment, steeling herself.

Malfoy sought her eyes, but waited quietly. He placed one hand on the edge of the shelf that Hermione leaned against.

Hermione looked up at him again, breathing softly into his ever-so-close face, "I didn't want to kiss you. But I didn't want the winds to have woken me up from that dreamlike state."

Malfoy blinked. Seconds later, a small, knowing smile spread across his lips, "I thought you said you didn't want to kiss me?"

Hermione sighed. She was battling with herself on what she should do: give in to him? She hated the idea that she was just as hormonal as the average girl, when it came to boys.

If the window had been closer to Hermione, she would have imagined tossing all caution out of it, all of her normally faultless judgment, "I didn't want to kiss you only because I know where my loyalty lies."

Malfoy sighed, but the smile remained on his face, "They're not anywhere near here though, are they?"

Hermione said nothing. He was right, and she had no counter-argument, something that was usually very quick to snap into her brain.

Probably the hormones, Hermione thought, feeling annoyed.

Her annoyance showed on her face, "What?" Malfoy said in a voice fighting back a laugh.

Hermione looked at him, "I'm trying to think of some way to respond to your question."

Malfoy leaned closer into her face, "Then maybe, just this one time," he placed a hand on her cheek, at which she shuddered at his touch, but did not recoil, "you could just go with what you actually feel?"

Hermione smiled slightly, "That may take some time for me to learn how to do that."

Malfoy's other hand now moved to her waist, "Then allow me to start your first lesson."

He moved so quickly, Hermione did not even have time to register what was happening. She suddenly felt his thin lips up hers, soft but a little cold to her own. She wasn't sure how to respond, and Malfoy seemed to realize this, for he pulled back from her lips and laughed a little, at which Hermione responded with a nervous little titter. He placed both hands on her cheeks and ran them through her hair. Hermione sighed at this touch while looking into his blue eyes. Malfoy obviously knew how this instance would affect her, for he smiled a playful smile and moved back to her lips.

Cautiously, Hermione removed her hands from her side (which had been frozen). She wrapped her arms around Malfoy and pulled him closer into her chest, which shook nervously.

Malfoy pulled back and laughed, "You're shaking?" Hermione nodded timidly, "Well, you seem to be a natural," Hermione blushed, "You knew to put your arms around me… most girls grab my face," Hermione laughed a little and looked back to his lips. Malfoy kissed her lightly, but removed himself from her grasp, "Now, now, let's not get too carried away, Pince will probably being doing her usual sweep of the library soon," Hermione smiled. Malfoy looked imploringly at Hermione, "When can I see you again?"

Hermione smiled, thrilled that this had gone so well, "Next Thursday? After dinner?"

Malfoy smiled, "See you at 7:30?"

Hermione nodded, "How should we, umm, behave around one another when we see each other in public."

Malfoy did not hesitate, "Act as if nothing happened. Nothing has changed," he leaned toward Hermione, running a finger underneath her lips, "I'll be putting an act on too, you know. In public."

Hermione smiled, "I know."

Malfoy kissed her lightly and walked away after giving her one sweeping look.

Hermione sighed and leant up against the bookshelf. _What_ an amazing kisser, what an amazing (Hermione blushed) _seducer_ he was, she couldn't wait to tell Ginny.

Hermione froze, thinking about what just happened.

"Oh no," she muttered, turning away from the spot where Malfoy had stood, as if this would block out the memory.

Her eyes fell upon a book entitled _House Elves: A History_. Frantic to have something to do, to do _something_ she understood, she grabbed the book and opened at a random page:

_No recorded House Elf uprising has ever been recorded, unlike their Goblin counterparts. Most house elves maintain a submissive, unquestioning nature when their master orders something of them._

Hermione snapped the book shut, unable to read any further. She went over to Madam Pince's desk to check it out, knowing that this book would be a good start for her research.

Though she did not admit it to herself, she knew that she was checking this book out because she felt that the average house elves personality was not dissimilar to her own: she knew she let Malfoy persuade her into this, this… _thing_ that she had so willingly created all because she wasn't in control of her hormones.

Hermione left the library in a bit of a rage. She slowed herself down, knowing that her emotions were not in check. She stopped at one of the windows to store her book away into her bag.

She looked up to see the Hogwarts grounds. Her eyes fell upon Hagrid's hut, where so many emotionally charged events had happened: Ron vomiting slugs, Harry and her sneaking out Norbert… Hagrid teaching her the meaning of the word 'Mudblood'. She remembered who it had been who first said it to her… and she immediately removed her eyes from the hut.

Nothing would change those memories, no matter how unpleasant they were. It seemed to Hermione, that as she walked down this hallway, so peppered by her many remembrances, that the library would always be marked by this new scene, which belonged to the one subject Hermione had little experience in:

Boys.


	3. Chapter 3

-kicks stone, whistles-

Hi Everyone! I'm sorry Chapter 3 took forever to put up; you have no idea how busy I've been! Between the horrific writer's block, computer crashes and me being unhappy with the original Chapter 3, I'm _thrilled_ this chapter is written and finished!

Let me take a moment to thank all of you for your patience - my life's been a whirlwind, and thankfully it's settling down. And I hope the length of this chapter serves you all well! I've really pulled out all the stops for this one: make SURE you read the end notes. I pay homage to someone very famous throughout the course of this chapter, someone who was a Harry Potter fan.

I'd also like to note that from now on, I will be posting Belongs to the Ages _solely_ on , not because I dislike Mugglenet (for nothing could be further from the truth), but because it's infinitely easier and quicker. Besides, I feel that you've all waited enough, don't you?

This next section is written in a bit of a different style. A lot has happened to me since I last published a chapter, and I think it's affected me, but for the better. It's a bit more reflective, and drama-filled (as any good fanfic is), but I hope you enjoy. I've got a clear idea as to where I want to go, and let me just say, the finale is going to be _insane_.

Enjoy! And thank you for your patience!

The newspaper fluttered to the ground; she watched a few stray pages slip away and escape. They were free now, free from their original order, their original place…

But she forgot the paper's fall for a moment. The ensuing scene would certainly be one that _Ron_ would always remember fondly, but she wasn't so sure.

A frustration coursed through her; it wasn't even the next _day_, and he still would not leave her thoughts or presence. But however persistent and longing her thoughts and his presence were, she shut them away, for she had made her decision: she would take no part in something this sinister and betraying.

But she did watch his receding back, and she caught a glimpse of the eyes she swore she would never look into again (at least, until she had told him their relationship, or whatever it was, needed to stop, whether he liked it or not).

They were arctic blue, a color that really shouldn't appear in nature, a color that really didn't belong on human eyes. Haunting, she had once called them in her mind, but they now fascinated her since that fateful night of festivity and fear.

So as much as she tried to beat down and deny her hope that he _might_ be a good person, it still sprung up occasionally.

Which was precisely why the paper fascinated her.

She examined it from a distance, as though she were afraid it would attack. It was crumpled to the shape of his palm, and the memory of his hand on her face crept to the forefront of her thoughts. She forced herself to block out the thought of his hand on her body, just as it had been earlier today. She approached it and picked it up: she stared down at the accusatory headline that peeked out:

**Further Mistakes At The Ministry Of Magic**

She bent down to pick up the paper, shoving it hastily in her bag, so Ron would not see her actions. She followed Harry and Ron resignedly into the Great Hall for dinner.

She had passed the afternoon in a stormy mood; the annoying and shameful memory of _him_ in the library remained stuck in the front of her mind. And now her most recent interaction with _him_ stuck in her mind as well.

She behaved in a slightly haphazard fashion during dinner, and ate quickly once again. She was anxious to read the paper, to see if what _he_ had shouted had in fact been the truth. But she fed Harry and Ron the library lie once again, and ran out of the Great Hall once she had finished her meal.

She walked quickly down a hallway and meandered up to a lantern. She opened the paper to look at the article.

But it was not the article that caught her attention.

How foolish she had been. The newspaper had not just been crumpled because he wanted to brandish it at Ron. He had other reasons, and she became even more annoyed when she realized that he wanted to continue their cryptic correspondence:

Too anxious to wait till Thursday.

Library, 8:20. Prompt, not earlier. Heard Pince is cataloging.

Same place.

D.M.

Oh, how this upset her. His demand for a meeting had become increasingly stricter, and evidently he'd become increasingly- she didn't want to think of that. Or rather, she didn't want _him_ thinking about her like that. Even his strict _time_ suggestion upset her: didn't he realize that the dormitories shut their doors at 8:30? That he was being controlling, and unreasonable? But, of course, _she_ realized moments later that _this_ rule of time didn't apply to _him_.

So she'd concede, she would go. At least she'd be finishing the wretched thing sooner rather than later, both today and for the long run. Even though _he_ didn't mind breaking curfew, _she_ certainly did, so she'd come earlier than expected. Just five minutes, she reasoned, would not upset him.

But time came back into her head: why did he limit himself to 15 minutes? _Surely_ he had given himself the original hour because he had bigger, grander plans? It worried her, but she tucked this preoccupation away: it wasn't like she was meeting him in a secluded alley… (Though she ignored the fact that it _was_ a secluded alcove in the library).

She stuffed the paper into her bag (rarely did she regard a piece of reading material so poorly), and set off to the library, preparing her speech and the _inevitable_ counterarguments, for she seemed unable to speak around him.

She walked into the familiar, spacious room, hoping that this would be the last time she'd walk into it feeling uncomfortable and unsure. She seemed to glide past Madam Pince's desk, past the scratched old tables, through the gargantuan shelves and pillars; it was a path she knew too well, now, and unfortunately, this little alcove would house _yet another_ unpleasant memory.

She paused for a moment, listening quietly; was that rustling she heard? Her breathing was shallow, and she took care to be as inaudible as possible.

But perhaps she should've made more noise, and perhaps she should've followed his orders, for what she heard did not help his case.

"…Please…" a voice sighed: it was a higher voice, "you can't make me wait much longer… I need you…"

"You know it'll be worth it…" it was his voice, now a familiar voice, "trust me, I don't disappoint…"

"Mmm…" the unfamiliar voice sighed. Clothing ruffled; a button clicked.

If she thought she was angrier before, it was nothing compared to this. Blowing her cover, she rounded the corner, and stared at the sight before her, with as much strength and disdain she could wear on her face.

His blonde head turned toward her, and stepped in front of a smaller figure, "I told you 8:20," he said softly.

"It is 8:20, and I would've been here earlier had I not stopped to listen," she said coldly, glaring at him, "You need to have a more accurate appointment schedule at your whorehouse."

His face flushed, and the eyes that she had thought of all day narrowed, "What did you honestly think?"

She glared at him. He glared right back.

The other girl's face peered out from behind him.

She had never understood why Mandy Brocklehurst was so attractive to most boys, but now she knew not one, but three reasons why: obviously, she had low standards (For that matter, she didn't understand _why_ Mandy was a Ravenclaw), and secondly and most obviously _now_ she was well endowed.

"Oh, em, hi!" Mandy said awkwardly, pulling her sweater in front of her lacy navy bra, "Haha, em, I better go… you guys doing a project together or something?"

"Yes, and we're about to finish it," she replied testily.

Mandy nodded a little, then turned away and scooted out of the library.

She turned to glare at him, "Did you _honestly_ think I'd do something like that? What, were you getting revved up with Mandy so you could satisfy yourself with me?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Draco replied nastily, "Besides, I thought you were the one who was getting revved up during lunch today…" he leered at her.

"Yes, well, I've come to say I don't want anything to do with you, Draco Malfoy, ANYTHING!" She added, perhaps a tad to shrilly.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Granger, calm down, you'll get Pince over here."

"Maybe I _want_ to get her over here, that way she knows you're over here doing… _things_ that shouldn't be done in the library!"

Even at that, Malfoy smirked, "It's not against the rules…"

"No, but it's _disgusting_, and _mean_, and _perverse_, and _hurtful, _and-"

"Hurtful?" Malfoy interrupted her ramble, brows furrowing, "What did you _honestly_ think we were? Married?"

Hermione's breath caught for a moment, "The thought of that is _repulsive_. If you send me one more note, I swear I'll tell Dumbledore!"

Malfoy's smirk returned, "Now I'm scared… speaking of being frightened, I'm surprised _you_ of all people would be so willing to venture _just before_ curfew… you must've really enjoyed yourself at lunch today…"

"Stop it!" Hermione whispered, pulling her hair momentarily, "Stop it! I can hear someone!"

Both their bodies had become rigid and still.

Footsteps were heading toward them. They sounded like heels.

Malfoy glanced at a clock on the wall: 8:45.

"If you had just shut up," Malfoy whispered in the lowest voice (Hermione huffed audibly), "Shut up and follow me," She stood her ground firmly, with her hands crossed across her chest, "Oh, _come on_," he rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand. Spinning her around, they dashed down another aisle.

Even though she'd been there hundreds of times, the path Malfoy was leading her on confused her. Books whizzed past, and not until they reached the edge of the main foyer did she recognize where in the library she was.

The footsteps were advancing toward the foyer; Malfoy pulled her toward the doors, Hermione still dragging her feet.

"_Would you stop it?" _he asked in a heated, annoyed voice once he'd managed to get her through the door and against a window, "at this rate, the noise you're causing will get us caught anyway."

"Maybe I _want_ to get caught," Hermione whispered angrily.

"No you don't," he whispered back, annoyed, trying to pull her further down the hallway.

"You're right. I'd sooner have stayed in the library and let Madam Pince find me studying. She wouldn't have minded. I've done it before."

Malfoy sighed, "And how do you know it was Madam Pince?"

Hermione glared at him. No retort rose to her lips.

He smirked, "Then let's get on then."

"No," she said firmly.

Malfoy sighed and looked at her momentarily. He seemed to be deliberating, for he looked her up and down.

"What are you doing?" she whispered even more rudely.

He smirked mischievously.

"_Hey!"_ she whispered. Malfoy had picked her up in his arms, and held her as if she were a baby, "Put me down! I'm not ill!"

"No, not in that sense," he muttered as he looked down at her, "and stop trying to escape."

Hermione folded her once flailing arms against her chest and glared up at him, face pinched, "You're such a chauvinist."

Malfoy merely chuckled.

While Hermione huffed and pouted, her mind started to wander. It was as though she couldn't keep it in check these days…

She needed to escape, back to the dormitory.

_Or you could just stay out here, with him, spend the night somewhere else._

Hermione shook the absurd notion from her mind. No, she wouldn't do that. She couldn't.

She willed herself to focus on her escape plan: nothing came. And even if she had something, would the Fat Lady tell on her? She usually never did when she wandered out with Harry and Ron.

_Maybe he could talk her into it, he's awfully persuasive… maybe he could talk her into his dormitory… her heart rose at the thought of sleeping against his hard, sculpted chest._

She nearly shook her head at this thought, and the effort to not move brought her back to her surroundings.

He was in good shape. His hard chest was warm, much warmer than she had expected, broader too. His scent was returning to her nose…

She shut her eyes firmly. She felt Malfoy stop.

"Have you actually fallen asleep?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

Her eyes snapped open, "No! I'm just trying to block out this unpleasant sight _and_ trying to figure out a logical plan!"

Malfoy smirked down at her, "To the former, I don't think you're trying too hard, and to the latter, I'm ahead of you on that one."

Her eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?" she asked, ignoring his first comment, for she did not wish to engage, "What's your escape plan?"

"You never said escape…" he muttered to her, then chuckled when her face became even more cross, "Just be quiet for a minute and then I'll get us out."

"Out?" she asked tentatively, but pressed her lips together quickly when he glared at her.

She finally cared to look around at her surroundings: it was a miracle to her that they hadn't been caught yet, especially given their current location.

The grand staircase leading down to the front doors would seem to be a highly trafficked place, but it wasn't at the moment. Quickly and agilely, he leapt up onto the middle banister and slid down.

It took every effort for Hermione not to scream, but she did inhale quite audibly. Her eyes watered as they sped down at an alarming rate, but Malfoy held her steadily, then landed neatly on the floor, with the faintest of thuds.

Hermione, though not speaking, was breathing quickly, her heart rate rising rapidly. Malfoy chuckled and set her down.

"Just be quiet a little while longer…" he muttered. Slowly, he inched the front door open, so it was wide enough to slip through. He started to slide through, but when he saw that Hermione still stood there in a shell-shocked state, he sighed and went back to her.

"We'll be seen," she moaned faintly.

"Not if you're with me," he whispered, taking her hand.

And they slipped through simultaneously, out into that fateful night.

---

Hermione observed the Hogwarts grounds: the inky black sky did its job quite well. Every familiar tree and pathway was merely a dark outline, and even then, she could only wonder if she was imagining things: she had looked at them a thousand times before, but perhaps she imagined them differently now.

The only concrete thing she knew was the surprisingly warm and strong hand that belonged to Draco Malfoy.

She heard his feet crunch occasionally on the otherwise smooth, grass-covered ground.

"I'm not even going to bother to ask where you're taking me," Hermione seethed, still somewhat fighting his grasp.

He stopped, and turned abruptly to face her. At this, Hermione startled: his face was alarmingly close, at closeness that she vowed to never allow again.

She could see his face clearly, regardless of the amount of light in the sky. The eyes that so captivated her didn't fail to attract her attention: it was as though they were impervious to the darkness.

He looked slightly down at her, mouth slightly twisted to the side. She didn't look away.

"Granger," he began, "Do us a favor and shut up."

Hermione's crossness only intensified, "_Why?_" she asked in a pointedly rude manner.

"Because I wouldn't put it past Filch to be lurking around. Now shut up if you know what's good for you," he said crisply.

Hermione continued to fume, but she let him guide her to this godforsaken hideout.

He stopped suddenly once again, and Hermione slammed into him ("Good grief," he muttered).

It seemed that Draco had actually led them closer to the building, for now the castle loomed over them. Their surroundings had changed to: whereas the front steps were surrounded by the sound of whistling wind, Hermione now thought she heard a river. And now that she thought of it, the ground had changed too: she now stood on a rocks, and not grass.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me where we are now?" she continued.

Draco sighed, resigned to her insistence, "_This_," he began in an annoyed voice, "is the dock where the first years arrive after they sail across the Black Lake. You do remember, right? The boats that moved on their own? Longbottom lost his toad?"

"I don't need you to jog my memory," she snapped, "it happened to be one of the greatest evenings of my life," her voice softened as she finished the sentence.

She felt Draco's hand shift in her own, "Didn't we technically first meet that day?" he teased lightly.

"What? No! I mean, I saw you at the Sorting-"

"I know that, but I saw you in the hallway of the train," he persisted.

"Really? I don't recall," she paused.

"If you're trying to be rude-" he began, now losing patience entirely with her continued penchant for rebuffing his advances _and_ her continued lack of awareness.

"I'm being honest with you, Draco," she sighed.

"Fine, then hold my hand tightly," he snapped, "I have to guide my hand along the castle to make sure we don't slip into the river. There's a slight edge. Make sure you stay as close as possible to me-"

"As I'm sure you planned," Hermione muttered.

He ignored her, "And following my footing. I'm not sure I feel like jumping in after you."

Hermione sniffed, but ruled that it was best to do as she was told.

Though her back did scrap a few times against the rough castle wall (which probably caused her sweater to tear), she admitted privately to herself that he did guide her quite well to the shore of the river.

"Well sit down," he added coldly. She heard him thump quietly onto the ground.

"Excuse me? Where? I can't even see five feet in front of me!"

He took her hand again, "walk closer to me, and you'll be fine."

She took a few steps cautiously, and tiptoed along the rocky ground. Was it her imagination, or did he seem to get further and further away? No, she certainly wasn't imagining, for the ground seemed to slope higher with each step.

She knew she was close to him now, a closeness she was reluctant to allow. She could tell, this wasn't a situation she had intended to occur: she could feel the heat of his body.

And suddenly, his arms were around her slightly shaking torso. He had guided her, without her even realizing, right up against the castle wall.

"Malfoy!" she whispered, "I-"

"Shh…" he whispered, running a finger along her spine while his other hand rested on her shoulder blade.

"How could you possibly want me still even though I've done nothing but complain?" she moaned aloud: rarely did she allow her thought process to be public, especially to someone who was supposed to be her enemy, "Let me out! I don't want this!" she took her hand from his and slowly tried to budge her arms away from his chest: she inadvertently ran her hands along his pectorals.

Draco moaned, "The more difficult you are to get, the more fun it is for me," he reasoned while placing his lips closer to her ear.

She shivered, but her will was not broken, "I'm not a piece of meat," she said through gritted, albeit shivering teeth as she continued to fight his embrace.

"Hermione," he sighed, loosening his grip, this time holding her much more gently, "_I just want to lay next to you for awhile. You look so beautiful tonight, your eyes are so lovely, your mouth is so sweet. A lot of people misunderstand me, that's because they don't  
know me at all. I just want to touch you and hold you. I need you. God I need you._"

Hermione shut her eyes, her voice quavering, "Why do you need me if you were so content to snog someone else?"

"Old habits are hard to break," he muttered, "you're stubborn, I'm… well, fill in whatever adjective you want."

He paused for a moment, then began again, "The reason I acted so annoyed when you forgot the scene on the train* is because _I'll_ never forget it. You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen, and no one has taken your place since," he leaned toward her, "and remember, I saw Veela this summer."

How could she not be flattered? Any girl would be, and she was.

But one thing still stopped her.

"I just don't like setting myself up for hurt," she whispered.

"Okay," he whispered, inching ever closer to her face, "Then we'll try again."

Hermione blinked, narrowing her eyes ever so slightly. She couldn't deny the slightest doubt in her heart. She would require him to make the first move.

And that he did.

His lips, she would never forget them. How swiftly he moved them, how gently he kissed, how firmly he embraced, their warmth and happiness they brought her.

His hands, those were hardly forgettable either. Never again would she have a boy run a hand through her hair like that: the thought gave her shivers. Never again would she have a boy place his hands so jauntily on her thin waist. Never again would a boy be allowed to run a finger slowly along her sternum.

Rarely did she ever feel so at peace, even though she had now laid her allegiance with a blood enemy.

That was the night that both created and affirmed her belief in him: this wasn't a boy who was marked for evil, this was a boy who was stuck between two worlds, two ideologies, two allegiances. It was a difficult belief, one she could hardly explain to herself, and it was a belief that was bound to be tested.

But she stood by it.

How long they were down by the river, she did not know. She supposed it was an hour, but she wished it had been longer. For she had clung to him brazenly, trustfully, adoringly. Just when she wanted him to go farther, he stopped. Somewhere, in her distant memory, she remembered him gently removing himself from her arms, guiding her through a small door in the side of the castle.

Somehow, she found her way back to the common room. Somehow, she found her way back to her dormitory. Somehow, she found her way back to bed.

But she never found that door again.

There you go! I'm sorry, once again, it took forever, but I'm so pleased with this chapter. I think it finishes stronger than it starts. But, then again, don't most things?

The italicized section that Draco says to Hermione (beginning with "I just want to lay next to you for awhile") is from one of my favorite songs ever, by my favorite artist ever. Look it up. You'll be surprised who it's by. I give full credit to this artist for these brilliant, loving, and sweet lines. Truth is, I see similarities between Draco and him.

Please note the * hints at a possible prequel! I _guarantee_ this prequel will be only one chapter, a one-shot, but I think it'd be nice to have some early context.


	4. Chapter 4

*Author's Note*

As opposed to the raging hormonal cesspool that my story has been lately, this chapter is much more thoughtful. More plot. More dialogue. Highly important. You get the drill: no steamy scenes today, (at least, no _long_ ones ;)). But significant scenes, nonetheless. Persevere, my dear friends and readers. You don't want to miss this one. And thanks for waiting!

As he crawled into bed, he wondered why he stopped himself from taking things further. Surely, he'd wanted to? He'd had plenty of experience before… it wasn't as though she would have been his first.

Their faces flashed through his mind as he slowly crawled into bed:

Mandy Brocklehurst.

Lisa Turpin.

Eleanor Branstone.

Marietta Edgecomb.

Sally-Ann Perks.

Pansy Parkinson.

The list went on; he didn't necessarily constrict himself to Hogwarts, or his class. Since he was 13, he had the gift of getting almost any girl. At such a young age, he rarely considered _why_ he was like this, and _why_ at such a young age. Pansy hung around him all the time; that one he was sure the whole school knew about. He reasoned that this hook up was mostly because he knew it would be easy.

Yet the thought didn't occur to him that perhaps he wasn't looking for sex.

Regardless, he tired of these exploits. The only thing he knew for sure was that whatever he wanted, what he _really_ wanted, he couldn't have. And whatever Draco Malfoy wanted, he was used to getting.

Which was exactly why a girl like Hermione was the type to catch his interest.

It would've been incorrect for Draco to say that he'd been _in love_ with her from the moment he'd laid eyes upon her. It took a while for him to admit he was attracted to her. In fact, he only started to truly acknowledge his attraction for her (at least, to himself) after the Quidditch World Cup.

But he didn't love her. That much he knew for sure. He certainly did not love her.

Yet the truth was that even years later, he still wondered why he'd stopped himself.

Hermione Granger faced a dilemma as well. But her dilemma was different than Draco Malfoy's. Her dilemma was not why she had stopped herself, but why she had begged for more, and, for that matter, whether all of that had really happened.

She certainly remembered images that could not have been real. It was as though she were in a dreamlike state. His face appeared fuzzy, and her thoughts were too.

Everything that was up was down, everything that was down was up…

_He was advancing toward her, his wide shoulders outlined by the little moonlight that seeped underneath the harbor bridge. Her hand lay on his crinkled-white dress shirt; she slipped a finger in between the two buttons. He sighed appreciatively. She unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a pale white, sculpted chest…_

Everything that was down was up; everything that was up was down…

The hardest part was, of course, continuing normal behavior.

Hermione passed the next day in a bit of a blur. She would need to make a huge effort to get the most sleep she could on Tuesday and Wednesday night. She didn't even bother to look Malfoy in the eye when she had the chance; she felt strange about him, and oddly introspective.

That night, as she lay down in her bed, attempting in vain to get a head start on her Potions reading, she realized she was considering him now _not_ as someone to be loathed, but almost as an academic study.

_It was obvious to her that he takes care of himself; most people who sit around all day don't have abs like that…_

Hermione shook her head and flipped over onto her back.

"Don't let thoughts like that run through your mind before you sleep," Hermione chided herself, "Why would you possibly think that he's attractive?"

_He's seems to be pretty interested in you… why else would he keep wanting to meet you?_

Exasperated, she flipped over onto her stomach.

"You know he's interested in one thing and one thing only. He probably just figures you're inexperienced, so he just thinks you're easy," she reasoned to herself.

_Well, he's right about inexperienced… most girls can at least get a boy out of their thoughts…_

"Shut up," Hermione thought, "all girls struggle with this."

_Then if you admit you're struggling with how to get him out of your thoughts, have you considered that you might want him?_

At this, Hermione nearly scoffed out loud: "That is ridiculous. I know better than to like him. I'm a smart girl."

_But a girl, nonetheless._

Hermione clenched her sheets and turned over onto her side, looking out her window.

_It's obvious he's interested._

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes. She wanted to argue, she really did, but something inside her caused her to believe he might actually like her.

Her chest felt strange. It felt light, as though something warmed her lungs.

_Ah… it's obvious you're interested too._

Again, she wanted to deny it. But she balked at the thought of arguing against her conscience.

_There's plenty to like about him… good body, reasonably intelligent, cunning…_

"But he's a complete and total pig!" Hermione pleaded with herself, "He has **not** won me over!"

_It's true, his views are wrong… but don't you like a challenge?_

"I do… but I'm not sure how to handle this one," Hermione said slowly.

_So you want him._

"I like challenges," she admitted to herself begrudgingly.

_You want him._

Hermione sighed, "Yes, I want him. But there's so much going against this relationship, so much going against him…"

_What if he wants to be with you for devious reasons, can you trust him, would being a couple actually work, they're all typical questions._

"The scary thought is, I think I **can** trust him, I just don't know if I should."

Hermione sat up. Sleep was apparently a difficult thing to come by tonight. She reached out to put away her Potions book. A piece of paper fluttered out of her book. Hermione picked it up and shoved it into her robe that hung by her bed.

As she drifted into an uneasy sleep, peppered with all of these thoughts, Hermione barely realized the significance of the little piece of paper that wound up in her Potions book that very day.

Draco Malfoy could hardly say that he was completely clear-headed either.

"She's a Mudblood, not anyone you should even consider dating, let alone being friends with," Draco argued with himself.

_Ah, but Draco, love is blind._

"Please, do not use that word. Even if she were a pure blood, _that's_ way too early."

_Come now, didn't you mean it when you said she was the prettiest girl you'd ever seen?"_

_Her brown silky hair… You know what that feels like against your skin now…_

"Shut up," Malfoy thought angrily.

_Her soft, pink lips… You know what it feels like to kiss them…_

"Enough already," Malfoy begged his conscience.

_Slip away into those images. You know you want too…_

"I don't…" Malfoy trailed off, shutting his eyes.

_When you shut yours, all you see is hers._

Malfoy's eyes snapped open, "I am a pure blood, a Malfoy, and I have to protect my family's noble name. There's no way I can even be attracted to her. And dating, as I said, is a no."

_So you admit… you'd date her._

"No, I would not. I'm just supporting my point," Malfoy shot back as his conscience.

_So basically, you're going to let some stodgy family tradition get in the way of the best thing that's ever happened to you?_

"She is definitely not the best thing that ever happened to me," Malfoy reproached.

_Oh, so Pansy Parkinson was?_

"Enough!" Malfoy whispered aloud, "I am in control here."

_That's right. You are. These are your thoughts speaking._

Malfoy groaned, "So what if I think she's pretty."

_She thinks you're attractive too._

"Doubt it. I put down her friends on a regular basis, why would she?"

_Have you seen the way she's been behaving around you? This whole day, she couldn't look at you, but when she's with you, her eyes never leave you. That's a sure sign._

"And it's not just because every girl finds me attractive," Draco pondered.

_It's because you've given her a lot to think about._

Draco sighed, "So if I give this thing a chance… won't I just wind up hurting her? I don't know a whole lot about being committed. I'm not exactly the most, ah, chivalrous of guys."

_It doesn't matter, don't you see? She's interested. She's chosen you. You just have to tread carefully._

"And why would I do that?" Draco snapped.

_Your family, the school, her feelings…_

"Right… this seems too risky," Draco thought.

_But don't you love a challenge._

"I hope she does," Draco sighed again.

_You might be underestimating her._

"That's true. Just think, she's tolerated Weasley and Potter for four years now."

_Never going to tire of that, are you?_

"Never of that, no…"

_Well, then it's settled._

"I'm going to try to be with Hermione Granger."

She had succeeded in making him think, and consider, the possibility of having a real, true, exclusive relationship. When he told her that night that they would start over, in order to avoid hurt… well, he didn't realize what he was saying until he'd already spoken the words.

So he resolved to try the unknown. He would propose that they become exclusive. Secretive, goodness yes, but exclusive.

A very foreign idea to Draco Malfoy indeed.

Thanks for reading! You should be happy to know that I'm on Chapter 5 already! Pretty drama filled, not just a bunch of thinking. Stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

After Charms, Hermione hurriedly rushed out of class, once again on the pretense of going to the –

"Library. Honestly, you will have read all the books by the time this month is over," Ron teased her as they walked into the Great Hall.

"Don't you want to grab something to eat?" Harry asked her as he and Ron situated themselves on a bench.

"Hmm, yes, I think I'll grab some toast and jam, and an apple," Hermione reasoned.

"And it doesn't bother you that they're made by-" Ron started.

"I make the sandwich. The apple has been picked," Hermione winked at him as she prepared her lunch, "See you later tonight!"

"Tonight? You're going to spend your whole free block in the library?" Ron shouted after her.

But she had already left.

oOo

For the first time, Draco had not told her to meet in the sheltered, dark alcove in the library. Initially, this confused her, as he seemed to make this their spot, but then, she realized that he probably figured he'd spoiled it's exclusiveness with the Mandy Brocklehurst incident.

At least he seemed to be making an effort by his note:

_Meet me between the Black Lake and the _

_Forbidden Forest at the beginning of lunch._

_D.M._

As it had been raining for the greater part of the morning, Hermione worried that this meeting would be, at best, soggy and short. Nonetheless, she resolved to go anyway.

Thankfully, the rain seemed to briefly abate as Hermione opened the front doors to leave the castle. Fog floated across the wet grass, and the sky was a silvery grey. It was still drizzling slightly, but not enough to really soak her.

Pulling her hood up over her head, she dashed across the grounds as the misty fog whipped across her face. She smelt wet moss and crisp grass. As she ran by the Whomping Willow, she took care to avoid its lashing branches and did a large circle around it, causing her to brush the brambles that served as a fence for the Forbidden Forest. When she grew closer to the Black Lake, she smelt what would soon be tonight's dinner.

Once she had reached the cliffs, she sat down on a boulder to look out at the lake. The fog was skimming over the relatively lake gorgeously, and she let her mind wander across the lake, lost in thought as she watched the wave's crash against the crag…

"That was quick. I'd have thought you'd at least gotten something to eat."

Hermione spun around. There he was. His hair was slightly wet, and a few little droplets of rain collected on his nose.

"How long have you been out here?" He asked, smiling crookedly.

Hermione bit her lip, "I don't really know. It's been pleasant, though."

His smile widened. He placed a hand on the side of her face a brushed her hair back, "Your hair is soaked… look at you…" he chuckled.

Hermione leaned away from him, "We really shouldn't be doing this… we're in plain view of the grounds."

Malfoy ran a finger along her nose. She realized that she must've had water on her nose too, for an ample amount fell into her lap. Slowly, his finger travelled down to her lower lip, and then to the tip of her chin.

"Malfoy…" Hermione whispered.

"Shh… I just want to picture you here a little bit while longer," He whispered.

Water sprayed up from the lake. Hermione shut her eyes quickly. Once the wind had ceased, she stuck her tongue out, licking her lips slightly to taste the lake water.

This apparently, was too much for him to handle. He leaned into her face, gently pressing his lips into hers, catching her tongue between their lips. He moved one hand to the base of her neck, and placed the other at the top of her collar, reaching for a button.

She turned away, "This is too risky," she said firmly.

Malfoy backed away from her, but not before taking her hand, "Then I think it's high time we go to our newest meeting place."

Hermione stood up, shaking some of the excess water off her coat, "I guess I had been here longer than I thought… I didn't even stop to eat. Damn… my sandwich will be all wet…"

"You were eager," Malfoy reasoned, chuckling at the sight of her wringing out the hem of her cloak.

"Well, I've brought an apple, that shouldn't be ruined…" Hermione sighed, tossing the sandwich into a pile of leaves, "There's a meal for some wild animal. I hope I don't get sick."

They walked along the edge of the cliff, looking around the whole while, ensuring no one was watching them.

"I don't like this," Hermione grumbled, "I feel like we're on the run."

"It's a miserable, rainy day, no one is going to be out here," Draco muttered, holding a hand up to his brow when the wind sprayed more water up from the lake.

"Are we there yet?" Hermione asked.

Draco stopped and turned to look her full on, "Are you serious?"

Hermione blushed slightly, "Yeah that was pretty immature."

Draco threw his head back and laughed throatily, "I can even see that you've blushed through all this fog. Yes, we're nearly there, but promise me you won't freak out and turn around."

"I won't turn around… but I can't promise that I won't freak out," Hermione muttered.

Draco shook his head, still laughing.

Eventually, they came to the point where there was a break in the trees in the forest. A small waterfall, not a five feet wide, fell into the lake.

Hermione turned to him, "Well, what are we going to do now?"

"We're going to turn left," Draco stated simply.

"Into the forest?" Hermione asked, shocked.

"Just don't turn around," Draco chided her, reaching his free hand out to make a bigger space in the leaves.

About twenty feet in, they came to a clearing in the forest. A crystal clear pond collected in the middle of this clearing, which had about ten small creeks leading into it.

"It's where all of the water from the forest drains off before going into the lake," Draco explained, "It's been a secret place for members of my mother's family to go during their time at Hogwarts," Draco muttered, upset with himself for bringing his family into it.

Yet Hermione didn't seem to care, "Oh, its beautiful! I've never seen water so clear!"

"Hermione, we're at Hogwarts, of course it's perfectly clear," Draco laughed again, "They use this water to fill the Prefect's bathtub on occasion."

Hermione turned around, "How do you know that? You're not a Prefect…"

Draco shrugged, "I get around."

Hermione attempted to hide her smile, but failed miserably, "Is there enough water to fill a bathtub?"

"This pond only appears when it rains," Draco began, "And I know what you're thinking, that they must really have problems filling it, but it rains enough in Scotland to fill a giant bathtub."

"Then, how do you know we won't be found here?" Hermione asked, now worried that they would be discovered.

"They only come here during the early morning to collect the water," Draco shrugged again, "Another benefit to getting around is you start to figure out how things work around here, and when you can get away with things."

Hermione nodded, "There must be plenty more benefits to sneaking around then simply knowing when this spring appears," She walked closer to the edge to look deeply into the water, almost becoming entranced by its beautiful sheen.

"There are," Draco whispered.

Hermione jumped slightly. Without her noticing, he had snuck up behind her.

Her breathing was shallow. Draco rested his chin on her shoulder for a moment, "I know how beautiful it seems the first time you see it."

Hermione relaxed somewhat, "It's stunning."

Draco leaned closer to her neck. He kissed her throat lightly, running his nose up and down her neck, taking in her smell. The rain had made her scent so much stronger.

Hermione sighed at the feel of his skin running along her neck. She moaned slightly when he pulled away, only to place a hand on her back.

He pushed her slightly forward, "Well, go on, don't you want to go in?"

"Well, we can't! I haven't brought a swimsuit," Hermione said.

Draco's eyes were alight with mischief, "Who said you needed one? Didn't I say this water was for a bathtub?"

Hermione took a step back, "Oh no, no no no no no, we are _not_ going skinny dipping."

Draco cocked his head, "That's fine. You can just sit here. You're starting to get me all warm anyway. I'll just go in-"

"Draco," Hermione begged as he reached to unbutton his shirt, "Please don't…"

Draco sighed, but smiled at her, "At least you haven't tried to run away."

Hermione turned away from him, now angry, "I suppose so."

"So…" Draco said in a low voice, "You're still holding up on some part of the deal."

"Hmph," Hermione responded.

She observed the sheen of the pond. There must've been some enchantment to purify the water. It looked to be heated, too. Why would the Founders have put a water source here?

Draco chuckled at the sight of her taking in the lake. He decided to surprise her. He tiptoed toward her.

Hermione had a sneaky feeling that he was up to something. She, however, decided to just stand by the water's edge and continue to admire the pond.

Suddenly, she felt both of his hands at her back, "Draco no!" Hermione shrieked. She slipped on a rock and fell straight in.

Draco, now alarmed that she might actually be in danger, jumped in as well to pull her out.

He reached out to her and took her frantic body into his arms and pulled her close to his chest, "Don't you know how to swim?" Draco muttered, laughing despite her discomfort.

"Yes! I'm just completely weighed down by a coat, cloak, sweater, shirt, skirt, tights and shoes," Hermione sputtered.

"And other things, too," Draco teased.

At that, Hermione wrested herself free.

"You little-" Hermione started, but faltered.

They were back on the ground, sure, but she didn't quite realize the state of his dress until she was finally free.

Hermione turned around, "Draco, put your clothes back on _right now,_" she demanded of him, shaking but blushing too.

"Why?" He whispered, placing his chin back onto her sopping shoulder, "I didn't want to get my clothes wet."

At this, she nearly turned around again, then turned quickly away, remembering that she couldn't look.

Draco's feelings softened. He observed her, shaking in the cold, her hair plastered to her neck and head.

"Come here," he cooed, wrapping his arms around her.

Hermione thought for a moment of freeing herself again, but then slowly laid her hands on his arms,

"I'm freezing," she whispered.

"You know," he said quietly, "This pond is heated… that's why they use it for the bathtub…"

Hermione froze again in his arms. She was too cold to be modest, "Alright…" Hermione said slowly, "I'll get in."

She pulled at her coat and cloak tossed them aside. She tried tugging off her sweater, but it became stuck around her shoulders.

"Here," Draco muttered advancing forward to help her, "It's grown heavy with the water."

Finally, Hermione's head popped out from her sweater. She realized she was facing him again, and that her white shirt was completely see-through.

Quickly, she covered her chest with her arms and turned away.

Draco smirked, "It's just a bra…" she glared at him, "I'm getting in now, if you don't need any help…" he said to her.

Lifting up his arms, he started to wade into the water. It was warm, as he had expected, but the cool wind caused him to go even deeper into the pond, to avoid its breeze.

While he was getting into the water, Hermione had fought to avert her eyes from the sight of him in order to remove her skirt, and was tugging at her tights, "They're- so taut-" she said through gritted teeth, trying to pull them off her legs.

At this point, Draco was just about to dive deep down into the pond's depths, "Are you sure you don't need help… again?" he teased.

"I… no!" Hermione stammered. Draco raised his eyebrows, "Alright," she conceded.

He advanced toward her, the water level getting lower and lower until it was below his navel, skirting along his lower abdomen. Draco paused, "Oh, I've forgotten, you want to keep things modest here."

He leaned forward and crawled toward her, his chest becoming dirty with the mud from the ground.

Hermione could not help but giggle at the sight of him army-crawling toward her. He stopped once the water would barely cover his backside. He propped himself up with one hand and reached another hand out toward her.

He paused, and looked at her.

"Just pull them down," she whispered, fixing her eyes on his while her heart thumped wildly.

He reached up all the way to the top of her inner thigh. Hermione jumped at his touch, Malfoy chuckled. He ran a hand up along her lower abdominal muscles until he reached the edge of her tights. He slipped two fingers beneath them and started to slide them down.

Hermione fought to make her body stay still, but she seemed to shake, though not from the cold. At the feel of him running a hand along her groin, she actually sighed.

Malfoy smirked at this, "They weren't that hard to remove… you just needed a firm, willing hand."

Hermione blushed, and then realized that, other than her useless shirt, she was nearly nude now, "I think I can take it from here."

Draco leaned onto his side, with her head cocked, and looked simply at her, "Can you?" He said in an even voice.

The boldness that she had occasionally found surged back into her. She stood up, eyes still fixed on his, and slowly unbuttoned her shirt. Draco watched her, entranced and attracted beyond belief to her sudden sultriness.

When she had finished with the last button, she let the shirt slip down to the ground.

She faltered and merely looked at him, watching him closely.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked, now worried, "Why are you all frozen up?"

Hermione smiled. It was a smile that she'd never worn before, for it was sexier, more mature, than any smile she'd ever shown anyone, "I just wondered if you wanted to do finish things up."

Draco's eyes flicked. He looked at her for a while longer, "You little minx…" he said in a low voice.

Hermione's smile widened and her eyes narrowed slightly, "Yes or no?"

"You pick," Draco whispered, "Either way I'm happy."

Hermione reached back and undid the clasp on her bra. She let it slip down along her arms and then fall to the ground.

Shamelessly, Draco let his eyes rove over her body, taking in everything he had never seen before, smirking all the while.

"Well," Hermione whispered, "You're not exactly one who likes to hide his intentions," she mused.

Draco sighed, "No… I'm not."

Hermione smiled. She slipped her thumb underneath the band of her underwear, tugging it slightly, letting her hip lean to the side.

At this, he actually lurched forward, nearly exiting the water, "Please, just take it off," he pleaded.

Hermione removed her hand and clapped her hands, "Yay! Usually you're the one driving me crazy."

"You always have driven me crazy, just not this much," he moaned, "Please…"

Hermione laughed, "Easy… patience is a virtue."

"Not a virtue I'm good at… besides, I basically have none."

Hermione slipped her other thumb between the band and slipped it off quickly.

Draco was breathing heavily as Hermione walked toward him, dragging her toes along the dirt and stone floor, "You bad boy… you can hardly control yourself."

"I didn't think you could be this… sexy," he moaned as she knelt down onto her knees and crawled toward him.

She stopped kneeled in front of him, barely two feet away, "Has anyone ever done this to you?" She whispered.

"No," Draco sighed, "I'm in heaven."

Hermione laughed, "Bite your tongue. I'm not done yet."

She crawled the last two feet toward him and then knelt in front of his face. She ran a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. She let her hands slide down his neck, delicately running a finger along the nape. She took his face and pressed it against her chest.

Draco moaned pleasurably. He pushed himself up and placed his hands on her waist and pushed her down onto the ground. He pressed his torso up against her, sighing contentedly. He pressed his lips against hers, letting his tongue trace her teeth, fight her velvety tongue briefly.

She giggled at his frantic efforts and pushed him back, "Draco, I'm still freezing. Let's get in."

"Fine by me," Draco gasped.

He picked her up and carried her, like a baby, into the water. He loved feeling her soft skin pressed against hers. He'd never been so intimate before with a girl. Sure, he'd seen girl's nude, but never in such a passionate situation.

"Do you like carrying me like this?" Hermione mused as he walked slowly into the pond.

"It's how I ensure that you'll always be with me," Draco whispered, placing her down onto the floor of the pond.

Hermione stepped cautiously toward him. When she reached him, she pressed her chest against his.

"Mmm," she sighed, "This pond _is_ so warm," she sighed.

Draco placed an arm around hers and placed his other hand beneath her chin, turning her face away from his chest to look into her eyes.

She observed his expression. It was a new one, one she'd never seen. Granted, most of these expressions he wore around her were new, but this one was unrecognizable. It was hard, focused, and scorching; a most intense expression.

Then suddenly she knew. She took her hands away from him, "Draco… we're too young…"

He sighed, letting his chest cave toward hers, "No one's here… no one has to know…"

"Draco…" Hermione whispered, stepping further into the depths of the pool.

"Are you scared?" He asked in a kind voice, a voice that did not threaten.

"I'm just… unsure. This is moving way too fast… can't we just enjoy...?"

Hermione looked at him. He was more than ready, more than willing, and she admittedly, was ready and willing too. But while her body told her to go forward, her head was telling her other things.

"What do you really want, Hermione?" He whispered, kissing her lightly on the forehead before asking her.

Hermione looked at him for a while. Draco knew better than to let his eyes waver.

Hermione inhaled sharply, "Does it hurt?" she whispered, her voice quavering.

"Not if I take care to make sure it doesn't," he whispered, eyes still fixed on hers.

"You won't tell?" She asked worriedly.

Draco nearly let his eyes roll, but stopped himself, "I'm not that bad."

Hermione sighed. She studied him carefully.

"If you don't want to-" he started.

"Please, don't say that line," she muttered, trying to look away.

"I mean it," he said firmly, taking her chin and moving her face back into his eyes, "You don't need to be so bold. Remember, I'm nicer than you think."

Hermione's eyes filled with tears. How could he be this nice? She couldn't believe that this person existed, let alone inside someone who she used to loathe.

"Oh Draco…" she said in a shaky voice.

"Don't, don't cry," he said, now fully alarmed. He'd never seen her be so bold, but he'd never seen her so scared, "I've never seen you like this," he admitted aloud, "It's like I hardly know you…"

Hermione looked at him intensely. She reached up and kissed him passionately, shutting her eyes to enjoy the moment, "I'm so happy."

Draco looked worried, "Why's that?"

She smiled widely, through tears that had slowed, "I know I can trust you."

"Even though you don't really know me?" He whispered, running a hand along her spine.

She pulled him closer into her, "Is there a better way to know someone than the most intimate act of all?"

Draco studied her a moment longer. He took both her hands in his and led her to the water's edge.

He lay her down on the stones. He was above her now, his hands supporting himself so as not to crush her.

"You're sure?" He asked apprehensively.

She nodded, pulling him toward her.

"No… I don't think we should do this," he sighed, flopping down beside her, "Ouch," he muttered as a few stones pressed deeply into his back.

"What? You're balking now?" Hermione asked incredulously, "I'm willing, and you were revved up like no other."

He sat up quickly, frightening her into silence. He relaxed, looking kindly at her confused, even upset face, "I don't want to ruin a good thing."

Hermione smiled, "This isn't changing it in a bad way… if anything, it's proving something."

"Like what?" he asked quietly, running a finger along her brow.

"That you trust me," she whispered, "even though I'm different than you," she said simply.

"Not like that. Please don't bring that up. You know I'm not like that," he said firmly.

Hermione nodded, "I understand what you think, I just don't understand your actions," she ran a hand along his pelvis bone.

Draco inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes tightly. Moments later, he opened them, "Then let me help you understand my actions."

And suddenly, he was back on her. Emboldened not just by the adrenaline flowing through his veins, but by the knowledge that she trusted him.

oOo

And that's Chapter 5! I hope you enjoyed! Hopefully, Chapter 6 will be on its way soon! I've already got the plot laid out. Thanks for reading! Review, if you'd like! I would greatly appreciate it!


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